


like a map of a better place

by shellebelle



Series: Jerseystuck [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, ancestral memories, parent child relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellebelle/pseuds/shellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wonder sometimes, if there’s ever going to be a time where you don’t feel like a screw-up. A day when you’ll wake up and know what to do, when you’ll feel like a <i>father.</i> Karkat's foster dad deals with Karkat's first horrorterror dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a map of a better place

**Author's Note:**

> You should listen to this song first: http://youtu.be/r7hEi-RRMQs 
> 
> It inspired this fic. Enjoy!

==>Terrence: Be a Dad

Some days, it seems like an easy thing to do! Karkat is a good little kid. Sure, he's grumpy sometimes, but then, so are you. He barely cries and he's a good eater, and he's a snuggler, even though he does occasionally bite your arm when he falls asleep. It doesn't hurt very much, and you know it's a comfort mechanism. He never means to hurt you. All you have to do is stroke his cheek till he relaxes and then make sure he has something else to chew on—usually his blanket. At night, you enjoy taking him with you on errands. He's usually very alert after sleeping all day, and he's quiet and curious and observant. It's fun when he asks you questions; at nearly four years old, he's asking a lot of “Why” and “How” questions.

But you wonder sometimes, if there's ever going to be a time where you don't feel like a screw-up. A day when you'll wake up and know what to do, when you'll feel like a _father._

You love Karkat, of _course_ you love him. No matter what your biology he's _your kid_ and he's so much like you that it's scary. But sometimes, sometimes--when you don't _quite_ have your shit together, when you forgot to do the washing and Karkat's grown out of the clothes that are clean, or when you have forgotten to schedule the well-wriggler check up and _you're late, dammit_ —you wonder if you were the right guy for this job in the first place.

After nearly four years, you think that you should have this Dad thing down pat. Or at least be able to keep Karkat's vestigial grubleg joint scars from infecting. (Which they do. ALL THE FUCKING TIME.)

You really wish your own Dad was still alive. It's be really nice to talk to him about now.

Karkat is a tough little kid, the toughest little kid you know. When he's awake, he never stops. He's intelligent and active and interested in everything. He'll get into everything, too, if you let him or if you turn your back. When dawn draws near, sometimes he will drop where he stands and you're always surprised when you lift him up how little he weighs and yet how solid he is. He's soft and adorable in sleep, and he flops his arms around your neck and snuggles against you. You'll tuck him in bed and he'll immediately wrap himself up like a burrito or something. It makes your heart ache sometimes.

He usually sleeps so soundly that you check a few times to make absolutely sure he's still breathing. (You'll deny it if asked.)

But today, in the middle of the day, you're jolted out of a doze by screaming. At first you can't figure out what it is, not until you hear a frantic, _“DADDY! DADDY?! FUCK, DAD??”_

You've never heard Karkat sound that way, and you bolt into his room. His bed is empty. His room is dim and you can't see him anywhere. “Karkat?” Your voice is shaking. You don't think you've ever been this scared.

You can hear muffled crying—no, muffled _screams_ —and they're coming from the Time-Out Pile, a pile of small pillows and beanbags that you use on the rare occasions that Karkat is naughty. You crouch beside it, carefully removing pillows. “Hey. Hey baby, come out...”

You uncover his eyes, which are wide and frightened and full of his red-tinted tears. Your brow furrows and you put your hand near his face, so that he can smell you and hopefully calm down. Abruptly, he launches himself at you and clings to you tightly, trembling and crying. You hold him and try to calm him down.

He's wet. He hasn't had an accident since you toilet trained him two years ago. _My God_ , you think. _What the fuck did he dream about?_

All of the lights in your house have dimmer switches and the windows all have light blocking curtains. You manage to get everything dim enough for him to feel safe, even though Karkat is holding on to you so desperately. He will not let go, and he hasn't stopped crying. You get clean clothes for him and a t-shirt for yourself and draw a bath for him, hoping that when it's ready, he'll let go and get into it.

You are scared shitless.

“C'mon, Kar,” you murmur. “Jammies off, lets get into the tub. It's nice and hot.” He loves his baths ridiculously hot, and the kid is scarily cold right now. Reluctantly, he unwinds himself from around your neck and lets you undress him. He gets into the water and instead of lying back as he usually would, he kneels and crouches over so that his chest is in the water. You begin to pour water over his back gently so he won't be too cold. He's still shaking.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Tiny sharp teeth catch his lower lip. “Don' wanna.” He gives a full body shudder, holds his breath, and pushes his face underwater. You put your hand in his hair and encourage him to pull his face out of the water. He lifts up his head and blinks water out of his eyes. He looks up at you as if he's searching for something.

“Daddy. I hadda bad dweam.” He looks around for the soap. It's the kind that floats, and he plays with it solemnly for a while before starting to wash up.

“Yeah?” You smooth his hair off of his forehead, and wait for him to continue. He's thinking.

And then the floodgates open. And you're almost sorry you asked. You have no idea how he knows about things like whippings and beatings and manacles and how he would use the word “cull” and it would come out _“cuww”_ in his little baby-voice and for some reason that just fills you with a horrible sense of _dread_.

“You know what, Karkat? I'm going to call Survia and Kanaya to see if they can come over.” Karkat looks at you with his eyes as big as dinner plates. “Will you be okay?” 

He nods, and you step just outside of the room to call. You hear him in the water but you need to just not be in the room right now. You dial Survia's number, and you notice that your hands are shaking.

“Hello?” You're glad she doesn't sound sleepy. You were hoping you didn't have to wake her up for this.

“I—I hate to bother you so...” Late? Early? What? You can't even think right now...

"Terrence?” You can hear the concern in her voice, and it almost breaks you.

You don't want Karkat to hear your voice, because you know how scared you sound. You start walking a short distance away, babbling softly into the phone. If you were less freaked out, you'd be horribly embarrassed at the way your voice is shaking.

But she listens and when you finally pause to take a shaking breath, she says, “Kanaya and I shall be there in a few moments.” She doesn't wait for a reply, just hangs up with a gentle click.

When you go back to the bathroom, Karkat had dragged the towel into the bath, soaked it, and wrapped himself up in it. He is shivering again, his eyes still wide and frightened. You kneel by the tub and take a breath. “Hey. Survia and Kanaya are coming over. Why don't we get you washed and dressed before they get here?”

He nods, and you help him wash his hair and rinse off, help him dry off and get dressed. He's still shivering, so you wrap him up in a blanket and carry him close. He isn't crying anymore, and he's tired, his eyes blinking slowly, but he refuses to relax. He winds his hand into your T-shirt and holds his fist to his mouth and nose. You walk slowly around the house with him, like you did when he was just a little grub.

You are so relieved when Survia knocks on the door with Kanaya in her arms. As soon as Karkat sees them, he's holding his arms out to Kanaya with a tiny, pitiful cry that just about breaks your heart. You both set the kids down and Kanaya takes Karkat's hand and leads him over to your large recliner, where they sit side by side. Kanaya pats Karkat's face with her chubby little hands and kisses his forehead, and he hugs her.

Survia places a hand on your shoulder. “Come. Let us leave the children alone for a while. Kanaya will keep Karkat company.” Your shoulders slump and your brain feels as if it's going to explode. She leads you to your kitchen and then puts her arms around you. She's slightly taller than you, and it's very comforting. You hug her back.

“He's so scared, Survia. So scared. I've never seen him like this, ever.”

“I...was not expecting him to have the nightmares so soon...I was hoping...”

You hold her away from you and look at her. “This shit's _normal_?!”

She looks at you, frowning. “The horrorterrors...they didn't _tell_ you about the horrorterrors?” She looks horrified.

You shake your head. “No. I've never heard that word before. Survia, what's going on, _please_...”

She cups your face in her hands. “I am so very sorry, Terrence, I thought they'd have let you know about the nightmares.”

You blink at her. “Nightmares, yes! But not screaming horrors that make my kid lose bladder control and make him shake for over an hour! And...and...that's not supposed to start for at least another _four years_!”

“Some...some children start earlier. And the children would already be in a recuperacoon, they would just step up the usage of sopor slime...” She goes around and starts the process of making tea. _Her_ hands are shaking now. “I was afraid of this,” she says softly. “When I first saw him as a wriggler. I was afraid of this...”

“Hold up.” You go over and take her by the hand and turn her around to face you, taking the tea things out of her hands. “Stop, stop. You were expecting him to start early? Why?”

“Because the nightmares are race memories— _ancestral_ memories.” She swallowed, and looked up at him. “Despite our lack of individual genetic history, we do have direct ancestry. More—more or less.”

“Survia, if this is normal, why are you _scared_?” People were stupid when they said you couldn't ever tell what a troll was thinking. You just had to be observant. It helps that Survia is your type of gorgeous.

“We—the jade blooded trolls—are the only ones allowed near the Mother Grub or the wrigglers when they hatch. When I saw Karkat, I was so afraid for him. If we were back on Alternia, he might—he _would_ —have been culled on sight. That bright red...it's like a beacon. I wanted to shield him, protect him.”

You remember how protective she was the day you'd come to get him at the Culture Center, how her eyes followed Karkat while he was in your arms, how fondly she looked at him. “You asked for him, didn't you? You _wanted_ him.”

She nodded. “They turned me down because there was a jade-blood that I needed to raise...but I helped pick you for him. I do not regret how things worked out,” she said, an edge of pleading to her voice.

You suddenly realize how stressed she is, and you cup your hand over her cheek. “Come on. Let's sit at the table.” You'd make the tea when the kettle whistled and not before. You pull out the chair for her, sliding it beneath her when she went to sit. You push your chair close to her and sit, slipping your arm around her.

“Tell me about Karkat's ancestor, then. Tell me why he would dream of shackles and whipping and culling when I've never used those words around him.”

Survia looks around anxiously, as if checking for listeners. “I have never spoken of him. None of us have, not aloud. But I shall try.”

Not for the first time, you wonder how life on Alternia _really_ was. Survia has some mannerisms that make you worry sometimes. You watch her duck down when she's interacting with certain other trolls, a hunch of her elegant shoulders and a bowing of her head that spoke of subservience, and it bothered you no end.

(It reminded you of older relations down South when you were a boy, of merchants placing change on the counter instead of into your relation's hand, of quiet and angry acceptance of prejudices that were never spoken of at home.)

Hesitantly, she starts telling you about a troll called the Sufferer...and that name, especially associated with _your son_ , doesn't give you chills up the spine, no sir. You certainly don't want to throw up by the time she's done. Though when you look at her again, the way you're feeling ceases to matter, because she looks _terrified._ She goes over to your window, looks anxiously out at the street, her long fingers playing with the collar of her garment, her sharp teeth worrying at her bottom lip.

You sigh and go over to her, wrapping your arms around her from behind. She startles, but relaxes against you. You rest your cheek on her shoulder. You don't understand anything but this has been a long night and you don't think she meant to scare you. You stay there for a long moment until the teakettle whistles, and then you reach to kiss the back of her neck, making her blush green again, and go to make tea.

You set the teacup down in front of her and sit with her again. She sighs and the tension at her shoulders unknits as she sips her tea. You talk, then, about her childhood on Alternia, about her service to the Mother Grub, and, tentatively, about the fact that although her blood type was rare, she was still very expendable in her position on the hemospectrum. You knew that talking about it made her nervous, and that she wasn't really permitted to speak of it much. She wasn't even supposed to tell you that the hemospectrum was something she wasn't supposed to talk about!

“We should put the kids to bed,” you say. “They'll get cricks in their necks from sleeping upright.”

She nods. “We'll put them to bed together,” she says softly. You move to get up, but she catches your hand with a little crooked smile. “You...have such pretty eyes,” she says shyly, tugs you closer, and presses her lips gently to yours. You can feel a blush prickle against your cheeks and into your hair—when was the last time you had a first kiss?--and you sit back down hard again and you put your arms around her. She's a little bigger than you are, but she feels good and just plain _right_ in your arms. You cup your hand over her cheek and she's so cool and soft. Her kisses are softer than you'd expected, considering the number of sharp teeth she had in her mouth, but she's soft and gentle and she tastes like warmth and _home_.

You put both of your hands to her face and draw away gently, stroking your thumbs over the strange contours of her eyebrows and cheekbones. “You are lovely,” you murmur. “Let's get the kids settled and then we can relax a little.” She blushes and nods.

In the living room, Karkat is awake and stroking Kanaya's hair, who is blinking sleepily up at Karkat and smiling a little. Karkat is unsmiling but quiet. Survia makes a tender chittering noise at Kanaya and she nods, yawning. Karkat holds his arms up to you, and you pick him up. He cuddles in, warm and sleepy.

“Sowwy, Daddy,” he mumbles against you. “Sowwy 'bout the dweam.”

“Aww, baby. That's not your fault, not your fault at all. Dreams just happen, and you can't control them.” You look over at Survia. “We'll be in in a minute.” You can see that the light is dim outside, so you lift the blinds just a little so Karkat can look at the water, and you rock him a little. “Kanaya and Survia are going to stay here for a couple days till we can get you something to help with your bad dreams.”

He hides his face in your neck for a moment, his little nubby horns bumping against your skin. “I stupid stupid dumb...”

“Hey, no you're not. Karkat...” You push your fingers gently through his thick black hair. “You're the smartest little guy I know. You can't help what happens to you when you sleep. And Survia and Kanaya are here because they love you so much.” Well, it's that pity thing that you don't quite understand but you figure it's close enough.

He's quiet for a time. “Are you and Survia going to sweep together? Like me an' Kanaya?”

You almost choke. “Ah...I haven't spoken to her about that yet, Kar.”

“You showd. It's nice an' warm, an' Kanaya is cuddwy.” He yawns. “Survia looks cuddwy too.”

“...Yes. Yes, she does.” You wonder if Survia can hear him. You feel that blush prickle at your hairline again. “You want me to sing to you?” You don't sing often, but Karkat likes it when you do. He nods, and so you start by humming, adding words in later:

“ _Like the breeze off the river  
Every time I see your face  
And it's strange but familiar  
Like a map of a better place  
  
And sometimes I feel like I live in a shadow  
And shadow's all I see  
Then you jump straight up  
And you grab the moon  
And you make it shine on me  
Where do you get it from?  
  
Everybody knows the secret  
Well I don't and I never did  
I don't know any secret  
All I know is I love you kid  
All I know is I love you kid...”  
_

As you sing, you can feel him getting heavier, his arms going slack around you, and you slowly walk him back into his room. Kanaya is already asleep, Survia kneeling by the little bed and stroking her daughter's hair. You put Karkat in next to her and the two little kids cling together as if they're magnetized. 

You stand there and gaze at the two of them for a while, and then Survia says: “You look like him.” 

You can't help but smile at that. “Yeah, I guess so...a little bit. He's way cuter, though.” 

She smiles at you and slips her hand into yours. “Come, let's leave them to their rest.” You let her lead you out of the room. You are too tired and wrung out to worry about where she's leading you, or when and where she'll sleep, or when and where  _you'll_ sleep. 

What you do know is that maybe you aren't so bad at this father-thing. Karkat wouldn't cling so hard to you if he didn't have confidence that you'd be there when he needed you, after all. Maybe it would be okay after all. 

Maybe other things would be okay too. 

  


And as it turns out, Survia  _is_ very cuddly. Extraordinarily so.   
  


 

 


End file.
